Grave Concerns
by jibber59
Summary: Ezra is very deep trouble, and time is not on his side. *Rated for some adult language.
1. Chapter 1

"You call this a report Wilmington? I can get more information off the side of a cereal box! And they get the spelling right."

"Well forgive me if I don't have the way with BS the rest of you do. I put down the facts – what else do you need?"

Chris Larrabee glared at the man and tried to remind himself that they'd been friends for years. Maybe too many years he thought. "A few details would be a good start. Maybe a couple of dates, a street address or two."

"Only dates he cares about of the ones with the ladies," Vin said with the degree of bitterness.

"Oh God, you are not going to bring that up again? It is not my fault Katie wanted to go out with me instead of you."

"You knew I was interested. You should've backed off!"

"Buck can't help himself Vin. He's like a big kid. He sees it, he wants it." JD teased.

"Oh, so now I'm some kind of hound dog with no control? Just cause you're jealous kid, is no reason to pick on me!"

"Could we please get back to the matter at hand here. These reports suck!" Chris tried to get everyone focused. "I get that we all just want to get the hell out of here, but these have to go up to Travis, and the DA. They can't go like this." He threw five reports on the table.

Josiah reached over and pulled the thick his folder from the pile. "What's the matter with mine?" He spoke civilly, but the growl was evident just under the surface.

"Well, in the same sense that Buck can't tell me enough, you can't stop. Don't need everybody's life history in there, Josiah."

"But it explains the motivations and the methodology of our subjects Chris."

"And nobody gives a rat's furry ass about any of that." Chris snapped. "You guys been doing these reports long enough to know how to put them together. What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with us?" Nathan asked with an _are you kidding me_ tone. "We spent five weeks cramped together in either a tiny van or smelly apartment listening to scum plan the buying and selling of everything from guns to teenagers, we barely had an evening off to get some personal time in, then the bust went south when three other agencies got involved. The case is, for all intent and purpose, dead, and we're lucky to get away from all this with nothing more but cuts and contusions and you ask us what's the matter? Seriously?" He was shouting by the time he got to the last word, slamming the drawer to his desk shut as punctuation.

"At least you were in the apartment," JD countered. "Vin and I were in an alley half the time. I've seen cats smaller than most of the rats that we had to deal with back there."

"You're the one who wanted to do something more than sit behind your computer for a change. Find out what it's like to be a real ATF agent."

"You saying what I do isn't important, Vin? You guys couldn't find your asses without my tracking programs."

"Yeah, right kid. I've been tracking people since before you heard of computer chips, so don't tell me I need your blips and bleeps!" Vin countered.

"Enough. Everybody just shut up and finish the damn things. I'd like to get the hell out of here before anything else goes wrong."

The quiet tension in the room was broken a few minutes later by the unexpected arrival of Judge Travis. All head spun quickly to focus on him. It was rare he came down to them, and even rarer to do so unannounced. He scanned the room quickly, and swore loudly.

"Where's Standish?"

"What did he do?" Chris questioned back.

The judge just stared.

"He should be at home."

"Check."

"Look, Judge. If he –"

"Now! Check. Find him."

All anger disappeared as concern took over. JD was already on the phone, and Vin grabbed his as well. "I'll try the cell, you call his place." A moment later both were shaking their heads. "Voice mail." Vin said unnecessarily.

"Anywhere else he could be?"

"What's going on Judge? What do you know?"

He rubbed his hand over his face, then sighed deeply. "DA's office got a call saying Standish was taken by members of Tolliver's cult following. They want a trade."

"Tolliver is slated to die at 10 o'clock tomorrow night." Buck countered.

"I am aware of that Mr. Wilmington. I was at the trial."

"Right –sorry."

Travis sighed again. "Likewise. They want him released in return for giving Standish back to us."

"And when we don't?" Chris asked, already knowing the answer.

"If Tolliver dies, so does Ezra."

They were silent for several seconds before Chris spoke again. "Buck, get a forensic team out to his place. JD, find his car. Use the tracker. There may be some clue on where they have him if we can find where they grabbed him." No one moved. "Guys – now!"

Travis remained in the room, much to everyone's surprise. Chris moved quietly beside him. "There more?"

"Yes, but it'll keep 'til you get this all in motion." Chris felt his stomach clench, knowing that whatever was coming would only make this worse, and that was hard to imagine.

Vin kept calling Ezra's phones, not expecting a different result, but not willing to give up on the slim chance this was some kind of bluff.

"Why him?" Josiah's deep tone broke the relative silence. "I mean, I know he was in on the arrest, but we all were."

"He was the one on the inside." Vin speculated. "The one they knew best. Likely the easiest one for them to go after."

"I think it's more than that. They blame him. They'd accepted him to their little band of crazy, and he betrayed them. Betrayed their leader, and for that brand of crazy, that's blasphemy."

"I take it that's based on the information you're not sharing with us yet."

Travis licked his lips nervously, which set off more panic alarms in all the men. Travis had years on the bench, and in law enforcement. It took a hell of a lot to make him nervous. He pulled his phone from his pocket and pulled up a file. "The DA sent me their message."

" _The traitor Ezra Standish has been taken as retribution for the unjust confinement of our leader. Much as he has been imprisoned,_ _figuratively buried in the heathen false justice system of the non-believers, so the traitor has been_ _literally buried - in the ground. As long as our leader draws breath, the traitor will be supplied with air. If Alexander Tolliver is executed, the traitor's air supply will be cut, and his body will never be found. You will not hear from us again."_

An oppressive silence filled the space. Vin realized he wasn't breathing, and suddenly gasped for air. The sound brought them all back to the present.

"He's buried alive?" JDs voice shook with a blend of rage and terror. "How could they – how could anyone do that."

"Anyone crazy enough to fall for Tolliver line of bullshit is crazy enough to do anything," Buck answered, the same rage in his voice.

"OK – I want to find every piece of property anyone remotely involved in this group owns. Every square foot of land. Anyplace they might – might have buried him. I doubt the forensic guys can come up with much, but we need to start. Oren, will that recording be enough to get us any warrants we might need?"

"Absolutely. I've still got friends on the bench who can expedite things as well. Do whatever you need to. We can worry about the details later. You've got the full ATF at your disposal, and I imagine any other asset you need as well."

"I want to talk to Tolliver." Chris help little hope he could talk some sense to the man, but had to try.

"Figured as much. Put the request in, but he is refusing visitors."

"Tough shit."

"Even if you get into see him, he won't talk to you." Josiah advised.

"Wanna bet?"

"No. He won't Chris. But I might be able to get through to him. One religious man to another." Chris narrowed his gaze, considering the suggestion. "I profiled him Chris. We've got nothing to lose having me go with you." Chris finally nodded.

"The rest of you, keep looking. Keep thinking outside the box." He immediately wished he phrased that differently. "We've got," he glanced at his watch, "damn – less than 31 hours to find him."

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Ezra thought his eyes were open, but the darkness was so complete he couldn't be sure. He was awake. At least, he thought he was. If this was a dream, he really hoped it would end soon. He tried to figure out where he was, and precisely what the hell was going on. The bitter taste in his mouth brought him to the conclusion he'd been chloroformed. It wasn't the first time, and each time it happened he swore it would be the last. This time, he had a terrifying suspicion it might be.

He was immensely relieved to find he could move, although not much. He appeared to be imprisoned. Boxed into some kind of container. He reached out as far as he could in each direction, finding he had extremely limited space on each side, and above him. The walls were rough wood, and he was getting a whiff of a pine scent. The realization sent a surge of panic to his brain. A pine box. Good Lord, he was in a coffin. That accounted for it all. The darkness, the silence. He was in a coffin. He forced himself to slow his breathing. Hyperventalation was not going to help. When you stop and think about it, he told himself, it is really nothing more than a very small room. Locked from the outside, but still, just a room.

And it was locked. He tried pushing to confirm that, and there was no movement at all. He considered shouting out, but could see no purpose. It would serve only to alert his captors that he was awake, and they might have plans for him once that occurred. No point in sharing that news yet.

He searched around again, not really knowing what he hoped to find. It wasn't as though they would have left him a key, or a phone. Which is why, when his hand settled on what felt like a cell phone, his heart leapt. Could they have been so foolish as to overlook this? Or to accidently drop it when he was locked in? He fumbled with it, feeling for the button and was startled by the brightness when the screen came on. He turned it away to give his eyes a moment to adjust, then brought it back. No signal. He swiped at the screen, searching for settings or options that might alter that status. It wasn't his phone. Wasn't likely anybody's, he realized, when he saw there were no apps or programs. No, that was wrong. There were two. One was a clock, the other some kind of recording app. Feeling fully manipulated into the move, he pushed 'play'. " _The traitor Ezra Standish has been taken…"_

He listened through, scarcely breathing by the time the final words were spoken. He stared in disbelief, then hit play again. It took every ounce of self-control to not throw the device away. He wanted to. Wanted to throw things, break things, kick and scream. His every instinct was to do that and more. But a voice in his head told him to stay calm. To think this through, figure it out. He was surprised to register the voice sounded a great deal like Josiah.

"OK, Josiah," he said aloud for the sheer joy of hearing a sound, "I concur. We need to figure this out." He had no idea of how long he'd been out, or how long he would still have air. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know either one of those details, but did come to the realization a clock had been left on the phone for a reason. He reluctantly pushed the button. The timer shone brightly at him – 29:27:14; 29:27:13; 29:27:12… He counted down for close to a minute before swiping the screen and watching it go black.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"Brother Larabee. Brother Sanchez. What a gift to see you. I have not expected such distinguished visitors during my final hours of incarceration."

"Your final hours of life you mean." Chris snarled back.

Tolliver merely smiled. "My understanding is that circumstances have developed that will correct that error."

"You're understanding is wrong. You killed 6 people, including an ATF agent and 2 DEA officers. You're going to die tomorrow. Count on it."

"Then I won't be alone."

"You could make that right Brother." Josiah spoke softly.

"There is nothing wrong to make right."

"You claim your previous actions were in defense of your flock. Trying to save the lives of your followers. How will Ezra's death do that? How can you justify what is happening to him."

"The same way you justify my death. Retribution."

"We will find the people behind this. You want more of your flock on death row? Is that what a religious leader chooses for his followers?" Josiah fought to keep his voice calm, knowing he wasn't fooling anyone.

"My followers have free will."

"Bull! You tell them when to eat, sleep and shit." Chris was having a hard time not reaching across the table and throttling the man. Only the fact Josiah was there was stopping him at this point, and he wasn't sure how much longer that would be enough.

"Prove us wrong, Brother Tolliver. Prove to us you are the better man. A man of God. Give Ezra his life back."

"I have no need to prove anything to you. I know who I am, and you will see the light someday. What you seek, in every way, is in fact right in front of you. Right before your eyes."

"We're wasting our time." Chris shoved back from the table, pushing it hard into Tolliver. "Let's get the hell out of here."

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Ezra turned the phone away again as he pushed to see how much time had passed. He was finding to his surprise he was getting quite good at estimating that, although he did seem to note that he tended to have a little less time left than he thought he did. Wishful thinking, he supposed. He could see by the glow that his hands looked as bad as they felt. He had surrendered to the panic a while earlier, clawing at the edges of the lid and pounding on the walls, until it dawned on him that, without the box surrounding him, he would be crushed by dirt and rock. He lay very still for several minutes after that, listening in fear he had somehow damaged the shelter that was postponing what he now saw as the inevitable conclusion. When he heard no creaks or groans, he eventually accepted that he had done no harm.

He used the light to try to determine more details about his prison. There was a small vent at the foot of the unit, and he could feel the faint breeze that confirmed that was the source of his air. He had no idea of how the supply worked. It had to be a tank of some kind providing the oxygen, which might mean he would be able to prolong it's use. Shallow, slow breaths, and the avoidance of any further panic attacks, might give the team more time to find him.

They were looking. He knew they were looking. That message had not been for his benefit alone. Clearly, the release of Tolliver was the goal. He was merely a pawn to be sacrificed for that end. He didn't know if they actually intended to free him from this grave or not, but he knew their plan didn't really factor into the equation. There was simply no power on heaven or earth that would agree to the deal. In the first place, one doesn't negotiate with terrorists and kidnappers. It only encourages further outrageous demands. And in the second place, Tolliver was a royal bastard who deserved what was coming to him, and more.

So, there would be no release. But there would be a hunt. He knew the members of his team above ground were scouring every possible lead, clue, tip and suggestion in the frantic effort to get to him in time. And he knew, in his heart, they would fail. The clock ticked away the seconds.

His thoughts went back to the vent. He concluded that in was unlikely he would be given the luxury of extra time. These fanatics had a point to make, even if they, and he, were the only ones aware of it. The supply was most likely on a timer that would shut off at the same instant the one on his phone did. He had a moment's hope that he could alter the timer and extend that supply until he admitted to himself that they wouldn't be linked. There was no signal here. No wi-fi to send the message.

Independent of any action he could take, the air would stop in 19:17:47 – 46 – 45. He turned the timer off again.

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JD threw the folder he'd been looking through into the bin. Another waste of time. Time they didn't have. Nothing was giving them any leads, any hope. Buck came up beside him, putting a bottle of ginger ale on the table.

"Nothing in that one either?" he asked gently, knowing how tired and frustrated the young man was.

"There's nothing in any of these. This isn't getting us any closer."

"Something's gonna pan out kid. They can't all be dead ends."

"Well they are, and that's exactly what they are. Dead ends, as in Ezra is going to be dead in the end."

"You quitting on him?"

JD took a deep breath and looked at the pile of folders still to sort through, picking up the drink. "No. Course not. It's just – it doesn't feel like it's enough Buck."

"You got another idea we can run with it, but at the moment, I can't think of anything else. We're all doing what we can."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just want to find him."

"We all do JD, and we will." Chris came into the room, with Nathan and Vin close behind. "Josiah's going over to the DA's office to sort through the records from the case to see if anything might give us a fresh idea. I take it nothing here is helping."

"I haven't even found the hint of a clue yet. But I will. There has to be something. All we need is an opening, right?"

"Absolutely kid." Chris patted him on shoulder as JD sat back down. The young agent sheepishly looked up at Vin.

"Uh, Vin. You know I didn't mean what I said before, don't you?" He got a puzzled look in response. "When I said you'd be lost without me. I didn't mean that. I know you are the best tracker we got. That anybody's got. I know if I can find something here, you can use it to find Ezra. And I didn't mean to make you mad either, Buck."

"Relax JD. Nobody took any of that to heart." Vin smiled encouragingly. "Good God, if we meant everything we said when we were tired and cranky not a one of us would still be here now."

"I guess. But, will it just seemed important that I tell you that. I'm really sorry I said it, said anything."

"We're going to get Ezra back JD." Vin hoped to reassure him.

Nathan nodded. "Damn straight. We've got hours left, and with the six of us working together, hell, we can move mountains."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Ezra was spending his time productively. At least, that is what he chose to tell himself. He was making lists. Lists of things the others would have to do to settle his affairs. Lists of people that needed to be contacted. That one was dishearteningly short. He was now working on a wish list. Not what he wanted to happen; that had only one item on it. This was a list of things he wished **had** happened. Not the big things, the life regrets. He was depressed enough without adding those thoughts to the mix. And, he thought to himself, he probably didn't have enough time to list them all. No, these were little wishes. Like that he'd put some peppermints in his pockets. His mouth was dry, and he longed for something, anything, to relieve that. He wished he'd taken a moment to tidy up a bit at home. His reputation for perfection was going to take a hit from this.

More than anything else, he wished they had left him a paper and pen. Well, he actually would have preferred a working phone and transmitter, but failing that, something to write on would have been appreciated. He was almost overwhelmed by his desire to say something, anything, to those he was leaving behind. He had long ago made all the standard preparations. His will, powers of attorney, all the usual things. You would have to be a fool not to do so in his line of work. But the personal side of death had never really struck home with him. It dawned on him that was likely because, in the past, he never really imagined anyone would care all that much. Well, his mother of course. But beyond that.

He reached again for the phone, wondering why he insisted on torturing himself. Knowing the time left would change nothing, but he couldn't stop the action. 8:13:07. Had he been allowing his mind to wander for that long? Time flies when you're preparing to die. He looked at the second button on display and punched at it again. The app opened, and for the first time since this started, Ezra smiled. Beside the play button was a smaller red dot. Record. Someday, somehow, this coffin would be found. And, with any luck at all, his friends would have a chance to hear this message. Even if that never happened, some future archeologist would have a story to tell.

"I suppose the first step should be to identify myself. Ezra Standish. Gambler, rogue, troublemaker, and consummate pain in the ass. And ATF agent with the finest team of law enforcement officers to ever wear a badge, despite my presence on the team. If it is at all possible, if not too many years have passed, this recording should be given to Judge Oren Travis, to Chris Larabee, or any other surviving member of the unit – Team 7 – to which I was assigned.

That being said, I am going to dictate this with the assumption it, and I, will be found sooner rather than later, albeit not soon enough. I want you to know that I have no doubt that every effort was made to find me in time, and the fact that did not happen does not reflect on any of you. You are all far to sane to delve into the minds of the lunatics who took this action. You could not be expected to deduce the absurdity of their process. I have no blame or anger for any of you, and beg that you do not take such guilt onto yourselves.

I expect you all to watch each other closely on this matter. The one certainty I have at this point is that there will be a period of adjustment. A time in which these words will either be unheard, or unheeded. Keep each other from falling into that trap. You are all too good a team to let these bastards win, and that will be the outcome if anything happens to the team as a result of this. That would be my deepest regret." He paused, taking a moment to wonder if he was wasting his somewhat limited breath by doing this. The odds were no one would ever hear it. Certainly not the people it was intended for. He decided none of that made any difference. He needed to say it, and that was the only fact that mattered.

He released the pause button. "Not my only regret, you understand. I regret that I will miss a great many things that I believe are ahead for all of you. Nathan's wedding, and JD's. Yes, that is my way of prodding you two to buy rings for the ladies in your lives and get on with it. You will never find more perfect mates, or one's willing to put up with the outrageous men with whom you choose to associate.

I deeply regret I will not be there to see it when that special woman captures and tames Mr. Wilmington. Yes Buck, I believe the woman that can do that does exist. She will enter your life in the most unexpected of ways, and will be the last person you believe could ever be your friend, let alone a life-mate. But it will happen. I can feel it to my core.

Just as I feel that Chris will, at some point realize the time has come for him to live his life to the fullest again. I did not have the good fortune to ever know Sarah, but I believe she would want that for him, and would hope he gets off his ass and does something about it. Just my opinion of course. I could be wrong. Could be, but I'm not.

Have no fear Vin, Josiah. I trust you too shall find companionship worthy of you in the future. I just don't believe either of you need the prodding the others do. I must admit to regretting I never took that leap myself. I believe the opportunity presented itself once, and I was too foolish to follow through. But that is a road I am not going to travel down now.

Speaking of Mr. Sanchez; I regret not spending more time listening to Josiah, and his interpretations of life and afterlife. Now that those issues are so dominant in my mind, I am wishing I had paid a little more attention. But the truth is, I simply wish that I had spent more time with my friend.

With all of my friends. I will miss the poker games, the friendly banter, the relentless teasing, and the ready support. I will miss sunset rides on Chaucer. I know you will make every effort to continue to spoil him as I have in the past. He deserves that and more. I think Vin will have the most luck with him. We have a similar lone nature that Chaucer seems to enjoy intruding on.

I regret that I never had the relationship a son should have with his mother. I know you all will have difficulty with this concept, but you must believe me when I say that, while it was not your standard family fare, we do – did – have a special bond. Maude was not a perfect mother, but then I have failings on the offspring side of that coin. Please, if it is not to late when you hear this, be patient with her. Listen to more than what she says. Her words rarely reflect her feelings. You all constantly accuse me of hiding my feelings behind my poker face. Where do you think I learned that skill? She will need your support far more than she will ever admit, even to herself. You would be doing me a great favour by making the effort to offer it."

Ezra stopped the recording, convincing himself it was the dry air and dust that were making it so difficult for him to continue to speak.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 ** _tbc_**


	3. Chapter 3

4:52:21 – 20 – 19.

"Five hours left." The sound of his voice startled him. Not just the break in the oppressive silence, but the rawness. He supposed that was to be expected, under the circumstances, but it angered him. "You couldn't have left a damned bottle of water?" he shouted at his absent abductors. "That would have been too much to ask!"

Of course, he was greeted by nothing but more silence. He pounded a fist into the lid of his prison. Then pounded it again. He didn't care anymore about the consequences. He doubted he'd be crushed and have this all end quickly. No, he wasn't that lucky. He was going to lie here for the next five hours, probably more since there would still be air in the coffin. Air that would start to go stale, go bad, slowly poisoning him. This was not the way he was supposed to die damn it. He'd never had delusions of living to a ripe old age, but this? This was embarrassing. Humiliating. He was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory. A spectacular shoot out with a notorious criminal. A heroic deed, saving the lives of innocents, or of his friends.

His friends. God, this was so unfair to them. He couldn't begin to imagine what they were going through. They must be driving themselves mad, searching. Unless they had given up on him. Why wouldn't they? This was insane. A lost cause if ever there was one. Finding a needle in a haystack was a veritable walk in the park next to this. Finding a small coffin, buried somewhere – anywhere. They couldn't find him in time, so why even bother looking.

"Wait!" He startled himself again. "What if I'm not buried? Just because this is a coffin does not necessarily prove I am in the ground." He pounded on the lid again, then on the sides. What if, all this time, he was above ground? All he had to do was break this damned box and he'd be free. Even if there was someone out there, and least he'd have a fighting chance. He pounded again, using every bit of energy he could find, the hits becoming more frantic, more frenzied. He tried to kick, but his legs had gone numb. Hours of stillness, tension and cold had rendered them useless as a tool. Running was going to be a challenge when he got free, but he would deal with that later. One crisis at a time.

He felt a warm liquid on his hands and, taking a deep breath, recognized the smell. Blood. He wasn't doing much damage to the pine, but he was beating his hands to a pulp. He didn't care. None of that mattered. He began pounding again, hearing the dull thud each time he made contact. A thud. A dull thud. "Shit." The realization hit him like a ton of – well, like the ton of dirt and stone he was once again certain covered him. The sound should be hollow. If there was nothing around the coffin, the sound would be hollow. He **was** buried. He **was** trapped. He **was** dying.

The silence was as heavy as the earth above him, and he couldn't stand it any longer. "NO! NO! Damn it!" He shouted, screamed and shrieked till his throat was raw. "NO! NO! NO!" The word echoed in the chamber until he simply couldn't speak. He didn't have to deal with the silence though. He ears rang with the sound of his sobs.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

"This can't be all there is." Chris looked at the files spread out over the boardroom table. "There has got to be something we've missed."

"JD's back to searching on line, and Nathan is at the hall of records but yeah Chris, this is everything we can find so far on properties and business with ties to Tolliver and his operation." Vin leaned back in exhaustion, the chair creaking with sudden move. "Nothing that brings us any closer."

"What about the land around the cabin where we found the guns?"

"There are search dogs patrolling it now, along with heat seeking radar from the search and rescue helicopter. Nothing yet, and they've covered most of the territory."

"Damn near 24 hours and we are no closer to finding him."

"Nobody's stopping Chris. We haven't given up, and we won't" Josiah's determined words didn't match the tone of voice, or the fatigue evident on his face.

"I know. I just – God, it's driving me crazy."

"Having that effect on all of us." Buck stood and stretched. He didn't want to dwell on what it must be doing to Ezra. He was about to say more when a tap at the door interrupted. Chris stepped over to open it to let in Steve Petrie, the leader of one of the other ATF teams.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I have a lady here who wants to talk to you. Says it's important."

"If it isn't about Ezra I really don't care." Chris turned away and started back to the table.

"She's Tolliver's daughter." He froze in mid-step and spun back.

"Get her the hell out of here." Buck wanted nothing to do with anyone with that name.

"Where is she?" Chris asked, ignoring his friend for the moment. Petrie stepped aside to show a young woman standing behind him. She looked shaken and uncomfortable, yet with a determination on her face that said she wouldn't be denied her chance to speak.

"What can we do for you?" Chris asked roughly.

"Nothing. But I am hoping I can do something for you. Agent Petrie found me, and told me what Alexander and the idiots who follow him have done. I can't believe it. Well, I can I guess, but – well that doesn't matter now. I want to help. I don't know at a personal level, thank God, but I might be able to find something, see something, that could help."

"Don't take this the wrong way," Buck stated as he came up behind her, "but why should we trust you?"

"How could I possibly take that the wrong way?" She had the faintest hint of a smile as she looked at her accuser. "I have had as little to do with that man as possible. I was raised by an aunt after my mother 'disappeared'. I am certain Alexander killed her. What I know of him has come from years of research trying to prove that fact. My only regret when he dies tomorrow is that he won't be dying for that crime. Well, that and the fact that he has drawn your friend into his demented little web."

Chris walked past her to talk to Petrie again. "Checks out Chris. That's why I went to see her. She knows a lot about him, and I figured any advice might help."

"Thanks. At this point, I'm considering psychics, so this is definitely a step up." He headed back into to room. "Talk to us. Tell us anything you can."

She pulled over a chair at sat at the table. "Tell me what you have, and I'll see if I can add anything." Buck reluctantly sat beside her and began going over everything again.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep, that he had worn himself out. There was so little time left, it seemed wasteful to miss a moment of them. Besides, what was it Chris would remind him of whenever he had to be roused from the comfort of his bed – "plenty of time to sleep when you're dead". He hoped Chris would not remember saying that to him. He hoped Chris would not remember any number of things that had been said, and done, since they had met. The early days and weeks especially, had been difficult. They were uncertain of him, and he was less than willing to accept them as well. But time, and circumstance worked away at that. A lot of time, and some occasionally very strange circumstances. None quite as strange as the current situation, but more that bizarre enough to break through the barriers. He activated the phone, trying to ignore the 2:07:32 that he saw. He turned the recorder on again and allowed himself a small grin. Might as well go out with a bit of the Standish flourish.

"I have been thinking of ways you might consider immortalizing me, since I have no doubt you will want to do so. I beg of you, do not name a child after me. No young man should have to go through life living down such a moniker, although I do concede it provided me with early training as a pugilist.

Of course, there is no need, or I am sure plan, to devise any honours. I neither need or deserve them. You might all be eligible for some degree of beatification for putting up with me, but there are enough quirks within all of our characters to make that unlikely as well.

I hope this is still a coherent, albeit rambling, message. I fear the fatigue and stress are starting to wear on me. The time indicated there are still hours of air, but I have begun to doubt its accuracy. My instincts, which rarely fail me, are telling me time is short.

If anyone had suggested to me, at any time in my life, that I would die with these feelings in my heart, I would have thought them to be, at the very least, delusional. But now, I find myself with an unexpected blending of peace and anger, of joy and sorrow. I have peace from a sense of self that never should have been my right to claim. And an anger that, now that it has been found, I will not have the chance to experience it fully. I have joy in the memories I have gathered, and sorrow that there will not be more. It will more definitely surprise you to know there is also a great, almost all consuming feeling of relief. At knowing that I will not have to face the reactions you will have to this maudlin display I have forced you to listen to. I can well imagine the comments and jibes that would resu-" Ezra stopped speaking as the light went out on the phone. He had been right about time running out, but not in the way he expected. He pushed repeatedly at the button, refusing to acknowledge the reality that he had exhausted the battery, and his hope.

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"You're missing a lot of the businesses."

"Businesses? What kind of business was he involved in?" Buck asked. Rachel had been an amazing source of information. She'd provided several more locations for them to search, and offered likely locations to start for each. While reluctant to dismiss anything, she had helped them rule out areas and options in an effort to focus their limited time and manpower on the best bets. What impressed the men the most was her failure to back down at any point. Chris's impatience, Buck's tantrums, Josiah increasing melancholy and all of the general insanity that was happening all seemed to have no affect on her whatsoever. Her focus was almost frightening. Now, here she was, hours later, still providing information.

"Alexander" – she had not referred to him as father or dad even once – "took over the businesses of all of his followers. Some were sold, but if he thought he could use them, or make an easy profit, he held on to them. Usually put them under an umbrella numbered company. There should be a list in one of the files." She had provided JD with the flash-drive containing most of the information she had gleaned over the years of research.

He scrolled through the file index until she told him to stop and one labelled 'Enterprises'. Screen after screen of corporate webpages and logos appeared on the monitor.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly. "I have it set to open to show pages with recent activity. Haven't looked at this one for a while"

"Smart programing." JD smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "I'll clean it up." He began clicking one by one shutting down the pages. He was startled into immobility by Chris's shout.

"Hold it. That one – what is it?" He was pointing at an image on the left side of the monitor.

JD took a moment to look at the site. "It's an excavation company."

Rachel nodded. "I know it. One of Alexander's top minions owns – owned – it. They do a lot of contract work. I think they still have a city contract, thought God knows I complained to the mayor – "

Chris cut her off. "I've seen the trucks."

"We all have Chris." Vin commented. "They're all over town."

"No. Recently. Near the ranch. There's some kind of ditch digging. We all got notices about infrastructure work being done."

Josiah stood quickly. "Right in front of us. Remember. Tolliver said our answers were right in front of us."

"Son of a bitch. He's at the ranch." Chris grabbed for his coat and keys. Nathan was already on the phone for rescue services while Vin was sending out the helicopters to start scanning for heat sources. All action stopped when the alarm went off.

"Ten o'clock." Josiah spoke in a hushed tone. "Time's up."

"No, it isn't" Nathan corrected. "He'll still have air in there. Could be hours worth."

"Unless they shut it off earlier, so he'd run out now." JD replied, his face going pale at the image that was entering his mind.

"Doesn't matter. We move. We find him. And, if it helps, we pray a little." Chris headed out the door, the others following. Buck paused in front of Rachel, giving her a weak smile.

"Thank you. We would never have got to this…" he couldn't finish.

"Go. Find your friend. There'll be time to thank me when he's safe."

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He wondered again how much time had passed. Nothing seemed to increase the desire to know something more than the certainty there was no way to obtain that information. One thing he did know beyond a doubt, he was losing his mind - again. He wasn't surprised by that, but was a little disappointed. He had always imagined he would be noble and stoic when he faced his final moments on earth. Certainly, he would have something witty and of great importance to say. Now, even if that had turned out to be the case, there would be no one to hear it. That didn't bother him as much as the voices. At first, when this had started, he had taken comfort in Josiah's guidance, Vin's encouragement and even Chris's frustration with him. But now, the distant sounds were annoying. Too faint to really hear, and nothing calming or soothing about them. That was the proof he needed that he was losing it. Only a crazy man would summon his friends to his imagination so that they could torture him with their distance.

He needed to find something else to do, to keep him occupied. He'd recited poetry in his head, reviewed mathematical formulas that allowed him to calculate the odds on almost anything (except his survival – that was far too long shot to even bother with), and drafted a report to Judge Travis on this, his final case. He realized with regret he had failed to thank Travis on the recording he made. An unforgivable oversight. Without Travis's foolish faith in him, he would never have found a home here. Found a place he could finally belong. He fumbled for the phone again, wondering why it wasn't working. Wondering, for a moment, what he was doing here at all. Something was wrong. Something was missing.

The air around him was still. He hadn't noticed when that changed. The soft slow movement of air past his face wasn't happening now. When he held his breath – yes, he was right. There was no air flowing in. How long had this been happening? He tried to focus but had no recollection of the change in his environment. It must have happened while he slept. While he wasted more of that precious time. It would explain the voices that kept distracting him. Of course, his mind wasn't quite as sharp. He'd likely been breathing in carbon dioxide for some time now. He remembered reading somewhere, he had no idea the source, that one could possibly survive 5 hours in a coffin underground depending on the size and other details he could not now recall. Did he have that much time, now that the air supply was gone? Had he slept through some, or most, of that? And most importantly, what did any of that matter?

The distant voices persisted, slightly louder at times, but still too far off to be understood. "Of course!" he suddenly uttered, surprised by the loudness of his own voice in the small space. These were the voices from the other side. Josiah had been right – something, someone, was waiting for him after death. Ezra decided he was not looking forward to the encounter, even as he acknowledged there was not a damn thing he could do about it. He gripped the phone tightly in his hand, his final link to those he was leaving, and closed his eyes one last time.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Search lights flooded the area on Chris's property where land had been disturbed in recent weeks. Because of their last job, he'd not been out there enough over the last 5 weeks to be able to tell them what had been dug when, so the searchers were looking everywhere. Helicopters had tried infrared scans, but with no success. Cadaver dogs prowled and ground penetrating radar devices were being used throughout, but there was so much space and so little time.

Vin stood at the end of the drive, scoping out the expanse before him. After a few long minutes, he jogged toward a grove to the south. He stopped several yards back, analyzing the terrain. The shadows darkened sections of the small stand of trees, but it didn't stop him from finding what he hoped he'd been looking for.

"Buck! Chris! We need that equipment over here. There, next to edge of the trees. Dig there."

Chris ran over ahead of the equipment. "Why?" He didn't doubt Vin, but want to know the reasoning for that choice. Too much was riding on it.

"The land around here looks to have been compressed more that it was in other areas that have been dug up. Like they were trying shield it, to divert attention. And, this spot can be seen straight on from the front door. Right in front of you – like Tolliver said. I can't say why, but I just know this is it."

Buck moved the backhoe into place and started digging. No one spoke. JD paced on the far side of the growing hole, watching every shovelful being lifted out.

"Wait, stop!" JD yelled. "You've hit something." Once he was certain Buck had stopped working the backhoe, he leapt into the hole. He took the smaller spade and began scrapping frantically. A moment later he felt someone beside him and moved forward, glancing quickly to see that it was Vin he had made space for. "I knew you'd find him Vin," he gasped out without slowing his efforts. It took little time to clear the dirt enough to expose the pine slab. JD's hands shook as he forced the tip of the shovel under the lid, prying with every bit of strength he had left. Vin was beside him, adding his leverage and both shouted in relief when the heard the wood splinter. Vin grabbed for the shovel again, forcing the end of the cover off.

"Damn it – open the other end Vin." JD cursed when he realized he was looking at Ezra's feet. Vin moved quickly while JD reached in, gently pressing on the shin. "Ezra? Can you hear me? It's JD, Ezra. We got you." He waited for sound or movement, but none came. He moved the pant leg up, touching skin with trepidation. "Vin, he's cold. He's not moving Vin."

"Nathan, get down here." Vin shouted up as he finally succeeded in releasing the other end. He went quiet at the sight that awaited. Ezra's lips were blue, his face cold, slack and unmoving. As chilling as that was, it was the trails of tearstains that broke his heart. He reached down and slapped him, gently at first, then with more force. "Damn it Ezra, open your eyes. Don't you dare die on us now, you hear me?" He felt himself being pulled back as Nathan reached down an placed an oxygen mask over Ezra's face. He began pressing on his chest, forcing the lungs into movement. Vin reached down with trembling hand, feeling for a pulse. His had rested on the side of Ezra's neck for several seconds before he was able to let out a soft gasp. "There's a pulse. He's alive." He began gently brushing the settling dirt from Ezra's face, trying to offer some comfort, although he wasn't sure if that wasn't more for himself.

"We need that stretcher over here, now!" Chris shouted to the medical team standing by.

"Nathan," Josiah asked hesitantly, "how is he?" When Nathan didn't respond, he got even more anxious. "Damn it Nathan! Are we in time?"

"I don't know. He's cyanotic, and I'm betting his pulse-ox is well below where it should be. Pupils are slow but there is some response."

"All of which means what?" Chris asked impatiently.

"It means we need to move fast."

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The sun was up, shining more brightly than seemed appropriate as they huddled in the hallway in front of Ezra's room, watching the nurse settle the blankets around him again as his doctor added a few notes to the chart. For the hours he had been there they hadn't wandered far from that spot. Periodically one went for coffee for all of them. The littering of still half full cups on side tables in the waiting room showed that had been far more from habit than need. Even when Travis had arrived, they gave him little of their attention. After checking in himself to see that Ezra was in fact still with them, and letting them know that a large-scale round up of virtually every member of the cult was underway, he had left them to wait together, eliciting the promise that he would get the first call when Ezra woke up.

They circled, vulture like, around the doctor as he made his way back into the hall. He said nothing, directing them several feet away from the door before speaking quietly.

"All things considered, your friend is in remarkably good shape. The injuries to his hands aren't as bad as they looked, and likely came from an understandable effort to extricate himself from his situation. The cold, confinement and tension will undoubtedly result in a lot of aches and pains, but no long-term problems."

"But he's still unconscious. That can't be good."

"Yes Mr. Larabee. He is. It is impossible to say for certain how much of that is physical and how much stems from a more emotional base. The trauma was significant, as you can well understand."

"Have you done any scans?" Nathan asked. "Determined if…" he didn't want to finish the thought.

"The monitoring we are doing shows that there is some reduction in brain activity, but that is to be expected in the circumstance. I am a little reluctant at this juncture to schedule him for an MRI. There really wouldn't be much to be gained, as the results wouldn't likely change our course of treatment."

"But they'd tell you more about what's going on." Nathan countered.

"I would prefer not to risk the possibility of Mr. Standish waking up inside the MRI tunnel. I think you can well imagine that would be a less than ideal situation, and a risk not worth taking at this point." Nathan nodded, understanding the last thing Ezra should have to deal with would be any further suggestion of confinement.

"But medically, he's doing OK doc?" Vin was trying to clarify all of this in his mind.

"He is breathing normally, without assistance, although we do still have him on an oxygen canula. His blood-oxygen levels have stabilized, but are still a bit lower than I'd like to see. As I said, there are no other significant physical injuries. For the moment, the plan is to let him get more rest, and hopefully wake up of his own volition in a few hours."

"So, there's really nothing much we can do for him?" Buck asked, the disappointment and frustration evident.

"On the contrary, there is a great deal you can do. For the moment, I think one or two of you should be with him, in the event he regains consciousness earlier than I would anticipate."

"Not a problem." Josiah showed the first hint of a smile from anyone on the team. "Be harder keeping that number that low."

"Well, it needs to be, at least for now. He does need the rest, and quiet is the best course. If he hasn't shown any sign of waking in – oh let's make it six hours from now, I would suggest more of you join in. Talk to him, talk amoungst yourselves. The idea would be to create a familiar atmosphere for him. Something he would be comfortable waking up to."

Nathan took the lead again. "You're saying his subconscious might be what's keeping him from waking up?"

"At the moment, exhaustion and oxygen deprivation is keeping him unconscious. But, from what I understand of the situation, it is entirely possible that he might have some difficulty convincing himself he wants to wake up again, given what he was facing each time he did so in the last day and half. I believe once he understands he is safe, his recovery will proceed at a much quicker pace."

"And when he wakes up?" Chris had to ask. "Things will be back to normal then?"

The doctor looked back into the room quickly before returning his attention to the team. "As I indicated, there is a reduction in brain activity at this point. We can't say for certain how long that went on, and what effects might result. Nor can we say what the psychological consequences will be. Physically, he is stabilizing, and I am cautiously optimistic that there is little long-term damage to consider. His emotional recovery is something I can't comment on. Much will depend on his own character, and the support he gets. I don't know him to speak to the first part, although simply surviving this is a good indicator. And I dare say I think he has a very strong support system here, which I assure you will help. There will be more to it, but if I were a betting man, I'd be betting on him. If you will excuse me, I have other patients to see, but will be back here later. The desk can page me if you need anything sooner."

"Thanks doc." Chris shook his hand.

"I have done very little. This recovery is far more his effort, and yours."

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Buck pulled another chair in from the waiting room, leaving that area sparsely furnished while Ezra's room looked like a furniture clearance sale. Vin was next to the bed, his hand resting on Ezra's arm while continuing to talk about any and everything that came to mind. They'd spent the last six hours speaking softly around him, trying not to wake him while at the same time make sure he knew he wasn't alone. It was a tough balancing act, and one Buck and JD had acknowledged they couldn't master. They had left the subtle approach to Nathan, Josiah, Vin, while they stayed nearby.

Chris, surprisingly, had left for a short time, updating the judge on the diagnosis, and being briefed on the arrests being made. None of Tolliver's followers had admitted to anything, but evidence was mounting quickly against 4 of his top lieutenants. Chloroform had been found, along with rope and flats of pine panels which would no doubt match the materials from the coffin. Voice matching from the recording would be the final bit of proof needed. Chris regretted for a just a moment that Tolliver had not lived to see the plan fail, and to see his so-called cult collapse in ruin.

He returned as they were pulling the seats into Ezra's room. He handed Buck a slip of paper, and answered the unasked question that was evident.

"Rachel's phone number. She left it with a note asking you to call her and let her know how things are going." Buck smiled, and Chris chuckled softly. "Really? She got to you?"

"Hey," Buck replied, "she's an interesting lady. What she did, walking into our lion's den, that took guts - and class. What's not to like?"

Chris shook his head. "Never would have pegged you two for friends, let alone anything more than that."

"It's a phone call and maybe a couple of drinks, Chris. Not like I plan on proposing or anything. I'd just need -" he hesitated, looking down at the bed.

"Need what?"

"Permission, I guess."

Chris assumed he looked as confused as he felt when Buck shrugged self-consciously. "From Ezra. I need him to be OK with me seeing Tolliver's daughter. It might make him think I was being – hell I don't know, disrespectful or something. It just might be weird is all."

""I wouldn't worry too much about that Buck. If there is anyone unlikely to hold the actions of a parent against the child, I'd say Ezra is your man. And when we tell him how she helped, he'll probably want to buy her a few drinks himself. But for the record – asking him shows you're a pretty class act yourself."

Chris continued to shake his head as he moved to the far side of the bed. "You really need to wake up Ezra. You don't want to miss what's going on here." He took the chair near the head of the bed. If he was being honest, he'd have to admit to seeing little change since he'd left. Ezra did seem to have a bit more colour back in his face and hands, but still felt cold to him. It also didn't look like he had moved at all, and that worried him.

"A few twitches," Nathan answered when Chris asked about it, "but nothing beyond reflex."

"Look Ezra, I know you like a good long nap as much as the next guy –"

"Especially if the next guy is Rip Van Winkle," Josiah interjected.

"- but enough is enough."

"Yeah Ezra," JD added. "This is getting kinda old, so wake up already."

They hadn't really expected a response that quickly, but it didn't stop them from being disappointed when nothing happened. They kept the chatter going, both to Ezra and round him. JD pulled Vin aside at one point, needing the answer to a question he hated to ask.

"You got a better look at his face down there than I did. Was he – was he scared? Do you think he was he awake that whole time?"

Vin didn't have to work to hard to draw the image back to mind. He didn't think he would ever be able to forget it. "Yeah kid, I think he was awake. And scared. Wouldn't you be?"

"I'd be a hell of a lot more than that. Vin, do you think he knew we were looking for him? I mean, do you think he had any hope at all?"

"He survived, didn't he? Of course he knew."

JD had a ghost of a smile as he walked back to the foot of the bed. "Good. Then he wasn't alone."

It was close to an hour before the first movement was noticed.

"Ezra – you trying to open your eyes?" Buck asked. "Nathan, turn off the overheads. It's too bright here for him. They all watched, barely daring to breathe as Ezra tossed lightly in bed, his hands reaching out and then quickly pulling back when he made contact with the bed railing. Vin reached to take his hand, but Ezra pulled away again at the first hint of contact.

"Don't Vin. It's spooking him." Josiah cautioned. "He doesn't seem to want to touch anything." They kept talking gently, encouraging him to wake up, but he settled back into his deep sleep. Sighing, they returned to their rambling discussions.

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The voices were back. Ezra was sure they had left him, or possible more accurately, he had left them. Left everything. Now they were back.

Louder than before. Clearer. Speaking to him. Well, that made a degree of sense. They were calling for him. Summoning him. He really did not want to do what they were asking, even though at some level he knew he had no real choice in the matter. He slowly reached out and was shocked when his hand hit a hard surface. Shit. He was still in the coffin. How could he feel that if he was dead? A hand touched his, and he pulled back quickly. No one was dragging him into the afterlife. He wasn't ready for that yet, and he wasn't going willingly. He'd go kicking and screaming, if only he had the strength for either action.

The voices backed off a little. Softer again, not calling his name. He had a reprieve. It wouldn't last, he knew. But he would take whatever he could get.

He drifted off, trying to ignore the sounds. He had no idea how long he'd been zoned out until he heard a loud and very familiar laugh, followed by several shushing sounds and what had to be Chris Larabee tersely whispering "Tone it down, you jackass." Chris was here? Silencing Buck? Dear God, were they dead too? Was the whole team dead, and here with him? No, they couldn't all be in this tiny coffin. He reached out a hand again, and the voices quieted. He moved his arm out until he noted with surprise he had gone much further than his confines should allow. He pulled back, his hand brushing on something soft. A blanket? That was the moment he registered that his back was cushioned. Not a board, but a mattress beneath him. This was impossible. This could not be happening. There was only one way to know for certain.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _ **tbc**_


	5. Chapter 5

"I can not believe you plan on calling that woman for a date!" Nathan starred at Buck.

"Why not? It's not like it's her fault her old man was a crazy, homicidal son of a bitch."

"Of course not – that's not what I meant."

"And without her help, do you think we'd all be here right now? We never would have been on time."

"Easy Buck. Nobody here is anything but grateful that Rachel showed up when she did." Josiah assured him.

"So, what's the big deal?"

"Let's face it Buck, she's not exactly the type you usually go out with." JD answered.

"What are you talking about? She's got looks and brains. Guts too, and more class than the bunch of you all put together."

"Exactly." JD agreed. "So, totally not your type."

"Very funny kid. You're a laugh a minute. Just because she'd be miles out of your league…"

"Which puts her lightyears out of yours."

"Hey, she's the one who left me her number and asked me to call. Her idea. Not mine." Buck laughed loudly at the look of surprise on JD and Vin. Loudly enough they all moved to silence him.

"Tone it down, you jackass," Chris whispered tersely. He turned his attention back to Ezra, hoping the outburst hadn't spooked him again. A moment later, he saw Ezra's hand moving again, tentatively reaching out. They'd lowered the railings after the last incident. Anything to help him avoid that sense of being enclosed. Ezra came within a whisker of touching Josiah, who now was in the closest seat, before pulling back. They all remained silent as he continued to search out the area around him, clutching softly at the blanket and smoothing his bandaged hand over the surface of his mattress.

"Come on Ezra," JD barely whispered from the foot of the bed. "Please."

Ezra's head moved slowly to turn to the right, and ever so much more slowly, his eyes opened. He blinked, not ready to believe he was looking at Vin. He shifted his gaze to see Chris and Nathan standing close behind. Movement to his left made him turn, bringing JD, Buck and Josiah into his line of vision. He blinked again, trying to convince himself this was more than a cruelly taunting hallucination.

No one dared to move, certain they would spook him back into his state of oblivion. His face was a mask, not reflecting a suggestion of what, if anything, he was thinking. Chris felt his heart sink as he glanced at Nathan to see the same look of concern there. Ezra didn't seem to know who they were. He certainly didn't seem glad, or relieved, or even aware. To have gone through all this, only to be too late, was a reality Chris didn't think he could handle.

Ezra closed his eyes again, and those next few seconds felt like an eternity to the team. "If this is a dream," he finally rasped out hoarsely, "please don't let me ever wake up."

The sound of sighs and nervous laughter filled the room. "You can't be telling us this is the kind of stuff you dream about Ezra. You can do so much better!" Buck was grinning widely.

"I don't think I could." Ezra tried to put a small smile on his own face but wasn't sure he had succeeded. "You are real? This is real?" Josiah gently place his hand over Ezra's, ignoring the reflexive pull back.

"As real as it gets son."

Ezra choked back a sob, fighting to bring himself under control as reality hit him, and failing. "No, this can't…I was. It was over."

Vin sat again and carefully took Ezra's free hand in his own. "It was close Ezra. Too damn close. But you're right about the rest. It's over. We got the bastards, and you're safe. It is over Ezra. You're alright." Ezra fought to calm himself, but couldn't. Chris ushered the others away from the bed, trying to give him more room, but when Vin tried step away Ezra grabbed at him as best as he could.

"No, please. Don't go. I'm sorry but please…" he whispered in a raw sound.

"You don't apologize for anything Ezra. I ain't going anywhere if you want me here. And if you think any one of us hasn't being crying in the last 24 hours, you don't know us all that well. Shhh. Just relax Ezra. Just relax. We're right here with you Ezra. Nobody's going away."

"I'm going to get the nurse Ezra. She'll get you something to help you sleep."

"No! I – I don't want to sleep. Please Chris. No."

"OK, but you have to try to calm down. Slow breaths. Can you do that?"

"Yes." Ezra gulped in air, then forced another small grin. "I've had some practice recently."

Ezra panicked again briefly when Nathan ushered the nurse into the room.

"Good to see you awake Mr. Standish. I understand you don't want any medications and that's perfectly fine. I just want to make sure your IV is alright. It's just helping with hydration. There is nothing else there, I promise." She glanced over the monitors. "Well, aside from a slightly elevated BP you're looking pretty good here. I'm going to leave you with your friends, but you call me if you need anything at all." She offered him a confident smile of support which he tried to return. She gave similarly reassuring looks to the others as she left.

"OK Ezra, you heard her. You just relax and let us take care of everything."

"Chris?"

"Yes Ezra."

"Could you, would you open the curtains?"

"It's pretty bright out there Ezra."

"I need…" he couldn't speak past the tightening in his throat as he felt another surge of panic coming.

"OK Ezra, just enough so that you can see out for now." He leaned over and pulled one side of the window covering back. Ezra's gaze shifted over. His expression changed as he squinted to be able to take in the blue late afternoon sky and gentle movement of nearby branches. He didn't even want to blink, for fear the image would disappear.

"I don't think I have ever seen anything more amazing in my life."

"We know how you feel." Ezra didn't register that they were all looking at him when Josiah said that.

"You try to get some rest Ezra, and after dinner we'll see about taking you out for a walk." Ezra's smile widened at Buck's suggestion and they could watch the tension start to lessen as he continued to gaze outside.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

 _One week later_

Vin had picked Ezra up for his first day back at work. The exposed nature of his jeep made it the most comfortable option for Ezra. He'd had more trouble that he wanted to admit getting into Chris SUV for the ride home from the hospital 5 days earlier. The darkly tinted windows had been far more intimidating than he could have imagined, and Chris was still mad at himself for not anticipating that. It had been a white knuckle ride for Ezra the whole way home, even with all the windows down.

Today, Ezra was more relaxed as he got out of the open vehicle slowly. The only remaining sign of what he had been through were the bandages wrapping his left hand. But he still felt the aches and stiffness that came from his confinement. It wasn't bad, and wasn't an issue most of the time, but when he felt a bit tense or anxious, he was aware of the lingering problem. They made their way slowly across the parking lot, allowing Ezra to indulge in what had become his favorite activity – being outdoors and just watching the world go by. This time, as he did so, he had the distinct impression he was being watched at the same time.

"I suppose I might be overanalysing the situation, but I have a growing sense I should be buying drinks for the entire building today." Ezra said as he received yet another welcoming smile and nod from someone headed into the office. Vin grinned as he held the door open. "Nah – a few of them might have been off on vacation or something. But the rest – yeah."

"I find it hard to believe how vast the effort was in all of this."

That worried Vin. "Why would that surprise you?"

"I would have to conclude that it is because it is so much more than has ever been done for me in the past. It still remains difficult for me to adjust to the concept that I have found a place where such consideration is the norm."

"Well, adjust already then, because it is." Vin pushed the button to summon the elevator, not noticing Ezra was standing back a few feet. When the doors opened, he made no effort to step inside. Vin gave himself a sound mental kick and stepped back out. "You know, I'm getting way too lazy. What say we take the stairs up today?"

"The office is on the 9th floor."

"Good, your memory is working just fine. A bit of exercise will do me good."

"You can ride up – we can. Just give me a moment."

"We can walk Ezra. It's fine." Vin assured him, now holding the stairwell door open. Ezra walked past him, not meeting his eyes, and Vin gently grabbed his wrist. "Ezra. It's fine. It'll all work out. Just give it time."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Don't worry – I'll believe it for you."

Despite some serious concerns about Ezra's speedy return to the office, Chris had finally listened to the advice of the psychiatrist all of them had been required to speak to. More than anything else, Ezra needed to be around others. Be a part of normal daily routine. He was nowhere near ready to be out in the field, or to take on anything to strenuous, but that would come back with time. Probably far less than the doctor expected.

Chris had made two decisions on his own, and was not going to be dissuaded from either. The first, which he shared with the others, was that Ezra was not going to be told exactly where he'd been buried. He hadn't asked for the details, going so far as to tell the doctor he felt he was better off not knowing too much about it all. It was easier for him to keep the nightmares at bay as long as the facts were abstract. Chris was fine with that, not wanting Ezra to develop a fear of the ranch and end up cutting himself off from that part of his world.

He knew he'd made the right call when Ezra came out for some time with Chaucer. He had relaxed noticeably just during the simple process of grooming his mount and preparing him for the ride. Chaucer seemed more at ease as well. The half-day ride they all took was the first time Ezra had truly laughed and joked since this began, and the improvement in his overall attitude leapt forward after that.

The second decision was kept between Chris and Judge Travis. The phone had been found in the coffin. The two men listened together to the recording, and proceeded to polish off half a bottle of the Judge's best scotch right after.

"None of that is going to be needed for evidence." Travis assured Chris. "It doesn't have to go into court records."

"You heard him Oren. That won't be enough. He's going to hate the idea that any of us heard any of what he told us. Hate the fact he opened up that way. He shouldn't, but he will."

"Do you think he realized he'd recorded his…" Travis searched for the right phrase.

"His completely understandable meltdown? No. I'm sure he doesn't know it's on there, and he never will."

"We can't turn back the clock Chris. We heard it."

"No. We didn't." Chris walked over to the judge's desk and picked up the brass Jurisprudence award Travis had received years early, slamming it down onto the phone. "Phone was damaged when we were rescuing him. Someone must have stepped on it. Can't be salvaged, nothing can be recovered."

"Yeah – damn shame about that."

"I'll find a subtle way let him know."

Travis smiled at the notion of Chris being subtle. He got serious again quickly. "How is he really doing? Should he be coming back?

"Absolutely. He's better when he's around people. I think he gets pretty caught up in it all when he's on his own, from what he's been saying. He spent a couple of nights at the ranch, and we talked some stuff through."

"And the rest of the team?"

"Well, let's just say this has put a few things back into perspective. Don't worry Judge, you've still got your best team intact."

Chris watched from the window now as Vin and Ezra entered the building. He headed out to the bullpen. "They're here," he notified the others. "Remember, no fussing over him."

"Not even a little?" JD asked innocently. Chris glared his response. Yes, things were definitely getting back to normal. He kept an eye on the elevators, and was beginning to wonder about the delay when he saw the door to the stairwell open, and the two men exit. Of course. Elevators might be a bit too confining for Ezra's liking at this point.

"About time you two showed up. You do know we still start at 9:00 around here?"

"As I am sure you are aware, Vin holds no culpability in our tardiness. I had some difficulty getting myself together this morning, and slowed our progress as a result."

"Pretty much guessed that Ezra. Still, good to have you back."

"And it is equally good to be back." There was a moment or two of awkward silence as the emotions of the experience struck home. Ezra cleared his throat and settled behind his desk, looking over to Buck. "You must share with me the details of your evening with Miss Toll-" he was angry with himself for stumbling over the name. "With Rachel. At least, the details a gentleman would share."

"Those are the only details I have for you Ezra. We had a nice dinner is all. Talked and enjoyed a meal."

"Sorry to hear that Buck." JD offered his sympathies. "She seemed like a nice lady."

"What do you mean sorry. We're going out again next weekend."

"But you said all you did was talk?" JD was confused. "That isn't the kind of date you usually consider a good evening."

"Yeah, well, this time it was. We had a really good time. She's - what's a better word than 'interesting' Ezra?"

"Fascinating? Intriguing? Beguiling?"

"Yeah, those work."

"So, why the delay in seeing her again?" Vin wondered aloud.

"I trust your reticence has nothing to do with concerns over my reaction to your associating with her? I can only repeat my assurance to you that I am not only accepting of the possibilities of this relationship, but am in fact completely supportive of it. I think it is high time you considered the possibility of spending the time in the company of a woman who could be more than just a passing fancy for you."

"Whoa! Relax Ezra. This had nothing to do with any of that. She's just gotta be out of town for a few days. Not sure you aren't putting a bit too much thought into this though."

"As I said Buck, I have hopes for your future." He glanced around at the men watching him, and felt a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Still, as long as they were all so focused, now was as good a time as any to address the one topic they hadn't dealt with in the past week.

"Do we have trial dates yet for the individuals apprehend in relation to my -" he hesitated for the briefest second - "abduction."

"DA is still working on all of that. Lots of crap to sort through, but if you're asking what I think you are, you don't need to think about it. You won't be testifying. Don't even had to be in court, unless you want to make some kind of victim's statement."

Ezra winced inwardly at the term, and hoped it didn't show. "I find I have some difficulty accepting the role of victim."

"No shame in it Ezra." Nathan assured him.

"Of course not. That was not what I meant to imply. It is simply a side of crime I am unaccustomed to."

"Well, if it helps any, we all felt a bit like victims in this one. This was hard on all of Ezra. Not as bad as it had to have been for you, but still."

"Actually JD, I think in some ways it may have been worse for you. I can't begin to imagine the frustration and anger you experienced in the time I was - buried."

"Funny," Vin said in a soft voice, "we all couldn't imagine what it was like for you as well."

Chris could see the room slipping into a discussion that wasn't needed today. The idea of letting Ezra come back was to keep thoughts like this from filling his day. "Anyway, to get back to your question, there is no trial date yet, and you don't have to be there when there is. Half the idiots are falling over each other trying to make deals, and there is more than enough physical evidence to convict the ones directly involved. Including fingerprints on the air pump and rigging in the -"

"Coffin." Ezra supplied when Chris hesitated. "Please, don't feel the need to cushion me from this. The more evidence there is, the better. Is there any other evidence to connect them?"

"Voice print match from the message they sent."

"That would be the same that was on the phone they left me?" It was the first time Ezra had mentioned the phone. Once again, a subject that could not be avoided forever.

"I assume so. Can't say for certain since the phone you had got wrecked, likely while we were getting you out of there. We have no idea what was on it."

JD looked at Chris. "I bet I could recover anything you need from it-"

"No, you couldn't. Already had the IT guys check. It's ruined JD. Done." Chris stared at him, hard enough to make JD back down.

Ezra was unconvinced by Chris's claims, but his gratitude for the effort was enough to make him dismiss the subject altogether. He took a deep breath and moved forward. "So then, have we a new assignment to prepare for?"

"Nothing at the moment. Travis wants up to get our files together on the last case we worked, since the DA is prepping his case."

"Ah, paperwork. The lifeblood of every bureaucracy."

"It can't all be action and adventure Ezra," Josiah reminded him.

"Believe me, nothing pleases me more than the possibility of a bit of boredom at the moment." He looked around again at the thinly veiled concern on the teammates faces. "As long as it doesn't last too long."

"You know Ezra," Nathan observed grinning, as they all relaxed at the comment, "somehow with you around, it never does."

 ** _The End_**


End file.
